B-Side Guys

Known Moons asks uncomfortable questions throughout “TIME”—”Did you?” “Can you?” “Would you?”—but never waits for answers, propelling forward on a dancy bassline that refuses to let existential dread slow the tempo. The Milwaukee indie rock outfit built this track around a paradox: cherishing whatever stability we can forge while acknowledging the world’s constant deterioration, all set to music that makes you want to move.

The production balances propulsive energy with emotional complexity. Rhythmic clapping layers over drums that push relentlessly forward, while the pre-chorus features guitar work that nods to Midwest emo without wallowing in its typical melancholy. When Steve Lamos of American Football enters with trumpet solo at 2:25, his horn intertwines with guitarist James’ parts into one massive statement—two instruments conversing about endings without agreeing on what comes next.

Lyrically, the song catalogs waiting and resignation: “Couldn’t say it to my face / knowing well that I would wait / For you.” But the chorus rejects fear—”I’m not afraid / of the bed I’ve made / or the vacant throne”—even as it acknowledges the futility. That repeated image of “shaking hands with well-lit ghosts” suggests performative normalcy, going through social motions with people who aren’t really there anymore, relationships that continue out of habit rather than substance.

The bridge introduces doubt the earlier verses avoided: “Do I even care / If it ever goes anywhere?” repeated over “I’m barely hanging on / But I can’t let go.” That’s the real tension—not between hope and despair but between caring and not caring, between holding on and questioning why you’re bothering. Calvin Langman’s cello adds weight without slowing momentum, reinforcing that you can acknowledge collapse while still dancing through it. Sometimes stability means accepting instability as permanent condition, keeping rhythm while everything else falls apart.